Solitary
by Kaen Okami
Summary: Spoilers for the Final Arc. The Djinn resent being torn from their masters and locked away like tools. But unfortunately for them, the power to change things has never truly been theirs.


" _Nothing can compare with the horror of being condemned to solitude for all eternity. The word, of course, is beyond our comprehension."_

\- Ijon, _Memoirs of a Space Traveller_

~0~

Ninety percent of a Djinn's life was waiting, Baal had estimated once. He had come to accept this fact of his existence, but never had it felt more like imprisonment than it did now.

His young master...Well, not so young any more, of course, but he had never quite been able to let go of that image of Sinbad as that brash, bright-eyed boy who had taken Baal into his sword with a smile like the sun on the ocean. Back then, he had showed such wonderful promise, and for years Baal had prided himself on choosing the perfect king candidate.

Then had come the fall of the first Sindria. Then had come the dark rukh, the rukh of so many who had died in terror and rage, that surged into his master and stained his own pure rukh with their curse.

That was when Baal had begun to worry. But not to fear, never to truly fear. His master was certainly not the sort of man who would willingly take the rest of the plunge into depravity. Sinbad's heart was good and his will indomitable. He could go far enough riding on his own abilities, but with the power of seven Djinn in his hands, there seemed to be _nothing_ the young king could not do.

And yet...

And yet, how could he have done _this?_

Sitting cross-legged in the center of it, Baal looked around once more at the sealed grey space that was his Vessel. He was fairly certain that if he were able to see the area outside of it, the view wouldn't be much different. The idea that kept floating into his mind, that this was all somehow his fault, couldn't rationally be true, he knew. It was within his ability to lend Sinbad his power, which he had done dutifully, but he was left unable to offer anything more. No matter how much he wished he could, he could not guide his master's path, nor warn him of the shadows at his back, nor even ask him why he had chosen to discard all seven of his loyal Djinn after years of service, as if they were mere tools instead of sentient beings. He had to have known, hadn't he, how hurt they would be by his rejection? Had he turned so cold that he no longer cared, that he would leave them here to rot, forever? Had they failed him so badly...?

No. Baal did not know how the other six were feeling now, but he could not - _would not -_ believe that. For now, he would fall back on his familiar routine as he waited. He would meditate. He would pray. And he would trust his master.

~0~

Belial was beginning to wonder whether he was ever going to catch a break.

He had never minded having to wait for so long in his dungeon. He understood that the power he had been entrusted with would require careful consideration as to who he would grant it to, and he had always thought himself to be a remarkably patient person, in any case. However, he had failed to anticipate that his determination to lend that power to only the perfect White King Vessel would be overtaken by the will of the wrathful prince and his arrogant Magi. His blood had boiled with resentment at being forced to bow to the whim of a king he had not chosen.

 _What a fool I was,_ he thought, as he paced back and forth across his Vessel, _to think that_ that _was the worst it could get._

Belial had to admit, he had been not just surprised but impressed at Hakuryuu's change of heart. He had felt the boy's newly purified rukh, shining bright as the stars, and he remembered the spark of potential he had first seen in him. True, he would probably never come to _like_ the young emperor, but he could certainly come to respect him and accept him as his master. He was never the type to hold a grudge, anyway.

He had, unfortunately, forgotten that he was bound to a boy that attracted disaster everywhere he went, and that _of course_ things could not end happily there. To Hakuryuu's credit, he had tried his best to keep his vow to protect his nation, but he was still not quite strong enough to fend off the darkness that pressed in on him from all sides. And now here Belial languished, stolen from his young master and held prisoner once more, his power again in danger of being used for evil. (It would be nice, he thought bitterly, if just once he could follow Ugo's instructions properly.)

Well, there was at least _one_ silver lining he could count on: the last he had heard, Zagan remained safely at Hakuryuu's side, one of the only Metal Vessels to escape the purge. Their master was not completely defenseless against their enemies, nor was he alone. If nothing else, Belial could still hold out hope that he would make good use of his time as an exile, and grow into not only a stronger warrior but a wiser man.

When his king returned, Belial would be ready. He would help him finally bring some peace into their lives. Perhaps, then, the both of them could finally rest without fear.

~0~

 _She's gone she's gone she's gone she's gone SHE'S GONE_

It had all happened too fast. She hadn't even realized anything was wrong, until she heard her queen scream in utter terror before, like being swept away by the undertow, she was overtaken by the cold, suffocating, _evil_ presence that the Djinn had prayed she would never feel again. It was all too fast, it was all over before she could even move _and now Hakuei was gone -_

Paimon's high, keening shrieks reverberated around the tiny cell that was her Vessel, as she clawed and kicked and threw herself at the walls like a caged lioness. Logically, she knew that it was useless to try; she had never been meant to leave this place under her own power. But logic held about as much sway over her rage as she held over this godforsaken Vessel. No matter how many times she tried to calm the howling whirlwind of her emotions and think through this situation, it still proved impossible. Her mind was stuck on only one thing: the woman she loved more than anything had been torn from her, turned just as much a prisoner as her Djinn, by the witch who brought worlds to ruin and slaughtered countless innocents to satisfy her selfish whims. And there was nothing, _nothing,_ that Paimon could do about it.

The way she saw it, there were two possible scenarios. At best, Hakuei's consciousness lay dormant, smothered beneath Arba's, and she had simply been asleep for these past years. Of course, the overload of information from all of this lost time would hit her like a tidal wave when she woke up, which would certainly be damaging. But at the very least, she wouldn't be in any pain now. At worst, though...There was always the chance that her master, never one to go down without a fight, had been awake this entire time, trying and failing to struggle for control. Only able to watch in silent horror as her mother used and abused her body in whatever way she chose...

Paimon let out another shrill scream as she rammed her shoulder against the wall again, hot, furious tears running down her face. _ARBA! Leave her be, she's done nothing to deserve this! Give her back to me or I'll rip you apart taking her from you!_

As usual, there was no spoken response, though she swore she could hear light, mocking laughter from somewhere just above her. Its message was clear: _Even with all your power, you are powerless. And because you are so weak, you've lost your sweet little princess. How pitiful._

Exhausted, she collapsed to the floor, her breath coming heavy and ragged. She _knew._ She knew by now how helpless she really was here. But she couldn't give up, not until this was all over. Not until she could hold her queen safely in her arms, could stroke her hair and kiss her forehead and reassure her that everything was all right now, that Paimon would _never_ let Arba touch her again.

"Hakuei-chan, I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, forcing herself to stand up again. "I've kept you waiting for too long. But I'll keep trying. I promise, I'm not giving up on you."

~0~

The Djinn of Sorrow and Isolation, she was called. She found it quite fitting.

Even without the storm she knew to be brewing just outside this place, Vinea had never much liked the confines of her Vessel. Though its cold darkness did bear some resemblance to the bottom of the sea, she had always found its small size and sterile dryness to be far too irritating to ignore. But even so, she needed to relax. She curled tightly in a shadowy corner, resting her head on her crossed front fins, and thought.

This stasis would not last forever, Vinea knew. When the inevitable clash of the forces moving on the surface began to rock the earth, the Djinn would not be left out. She and her brethren were too great a power to stay trapped here forever, and distasteful as the thought was, she was certain that she could wait patiently until the moment she was freed again, if that was the only option left to her.

But, that was not the only thing she had to consider. There was, as always, her master to think about.

 _Kougyoku...My little fledgling._

Vinea remembered well the day she had chosen her queen. Next to her older brothers, Kougyoku had been the smallest and weakest presence in the room, but her desperate thirst to prove herself had caught and held the Djinn's attention far more than the other warriors' overpowering confidence ever could. She could see the princess' entire life in her eyes, a life of being shunted to the side and pushed into the shadows, always alone. If anyone could fully understand what it meant to become Vinea's queen, it was this girl, who had already borne her burdens, who would rise like the waves of a storm if only she were given this chance and this power. And she had, she had mastered her Metal Vessel so beautifully, while her Djinn watched from within in silent but ferocious pride!

Now she was alone, her Vessel's power ripped away from her as the weight of a dying empire was thrust onto her shoulders. But though Vinea wondered day in and day out what was happening, she knew she had no real reason to worry. Her little fledgling was strong and enduring, and even without the ocean's power at her hands, she still kept its unwavering resilience in her heart. Before long, she would come to take her Djinn back. There was no way that she wouldn't. Vinea dreamed of the day that they would be reunited, when she would see the proud woman, the great dragon, that Kougyoku had grown into.

Her queen's fate was at the forefront of her mind, but that, she reminded herself, was not what she truly had to worry about. She knew that the power of the Djinn and their Metal Vessels would have a part to play in deciding the fate of this world, but she had to consider that she was assuming that they would be on the side of those who fought to protect it, acting of their own free will. They would be fools to think that their imprisonment was the worst that could be done to them. Their power had already fallen into the wrong hands, and if that power was no longer just suppressed, but twisted to be used for destruction...

A shudder ran down the length of her body. Vinea glanced upward, at the unending darkness that made up the roof of her Vessel. _My darling, please hurry. There may not be much time left._

~0~

A breath in, a breath out. Eyes closed, in a safer darkness than that of this Vessel. Even in captivity, he could have no fear. This is no different, he told himself, than waiting for a king to come to him in his dungeon. All will be well.

As one of the oldest of the Djinn, Amon had always felt the need to set an example for the younger ones. Even if they were no longer able to see each other, he still could not break the habit, and he still had the sense that if _he_ were to lose his composure, the rest of them would follow. But if he held steady, maintained the sternness and poise that he was known for, then it would make it easier for them all to weather this storm.

So he focused only on remaining calm, calling on the patience that the lifestyle of a Djinn demanded of him. He had spent over ten years alone in his dungeon; however long he had to wait now, he could bear it. He _had_ to bear it. Surely, the king candidates of the world would continue to fight the battles that their Djinn temporarily could not, and they all had to be ready for when they were able to rejoin. Even if his own chosen king was...

No. No, best not to dwell on what he could not fix.

All it was was a matter of time, Amon kept reminding himself. Just a matter of time. If he had learned anything over his lengthy existence, it was that nothing could last forever, especially in a world like this that was constantly changing. Soon enough -

At that moment, quite unexpectedly, something shifted, and Amon's eyes flew open. He knew that presence well, one shining with determination and courage, warm as the light of the sun. But, no, it couldn't be; and yet...

A breath in, a breath out.

The spark that ignites another shift in the world.

His young master has returned.

 **~0~**


End file.
